


Feelings Are Fatal

by Quintzel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bad Dream :(, Bonding, Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced to Be Roommates, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hinted Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Room of Requirement, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintzel/pseuds/Quintzel
Summary: Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts for an eighth and final year... After a bad night, he discovers that he and his new roommate have more in common than he ever thought possible.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 148





	Feelings Are Fatal

Harry brushed his teeth with unnecessary vigor, staring at his bleary-eyed, exhausted reflection in the bathroom mirror. There heavy bags under his eyes, the telltale sign of so many sleepless nights. The-boy-who-lived had been finding himself wishing more and more often that Voldemort had taken his life in the Battle of Hogwarts, if only so Harry would not have to deal with his new reality. When McGonagall had first made the suggestion, an eighth year had seemed like a magnificent idea. Little had he known what surprises would be in store for the returning war heroes.  
Almost as if they had a mind of their own, his green eyes slid to focus on the image in the mirror of the boy lounging behind Harry in their shared room. Malfoy. There was no mistaking the golden mop of hair, the pale skin, the slender but simultaneously well-built frame. Sharing a living space for the past two months had been one of the tensest, most uncomfortable situations Harry could have possibly imagined. And yet here they were, old rivals forced to become roommates. Of course, either of them could have easily requested a rooming change at the start of the school year. But that would have required one of the boys to swallow their pride and admit that the situation bothered them enough to elicit such a response. No, instead, they had both arrived at the same silent agreement: They would simply have to share the room and do their best not to hex the bloody hell out of each other every day. To the widespread shock of all of Hogwarts, the two young men had somehow managed to remain civil towards one another.  
After finishing in the bathroom and flipping off the lights, the young man slipped into bed begrudgingly. A quick incantation sent his glasses to rest atop his nightstand. At some point, Malfoy had drawn the curtains around his bed, so that neither of them could see the other. Harry followed suit, settling into the comfort of his covers. A sigh escaped his lips as he resigned himself to another long night.  
Though he wasn’t entirely sure what was causing it, Harry had been struggling with falling asleep since he began the school term. Perhaps it was the terrible memories that haunted every corner of Hogwarts, memories of Colin Creevey’s lifeless body, of Fred’s fallen form, of explosions and death spells and so many fatalities. Maybe it was the mere mundane nature of it all. Potter had grown so accustomed to constantly being on edge, ready to spring into action at any given moment. Now, it was proving impossible to adjust to a life without a long list of threats hovering over his consciousness. But mostly, Harry thought he could attribute his never-ending insomnia to the presence of a certain Draco Malfoy, only a few feet from him. Harry had always been completely unable to stand Malfoy’s obnoxious personality and disposition. It seemed that their relationship had been set in stone from their very first exchange years ago.  
But it was impossible to push away the fact that Malfoy had changed an extraordinary amount since they were eleven years old. Harry’s visit to Malfoy Manor had granted him a deep understanding of what Malfoy’s family and home life must have been like. And now that they were back in school, now that the oppressive regime of the Death Eaters had been obliterated and Malfoy seemed to finally have the opportunity to form his own opinions and morals without the cruel hands of Lucius and similar wizards holding him down... Well, suffice it to say that the golden-haired boy was behaving in a much more tolerable manner. Still, Harry struggled with trusting the Slytherin enough to fall asleep every night right next to him.  
Several hours had passed uneventfully, with Harry staring at the ceiling numbly. The sound of rustling sheets and bare feet on the floor broke him from his trance. Malfoy was awake, probably requiring use of the bathroom. When the older boy returned to bed, Harry was overcome with the sudden urge to strike up a conversation with him. Biting his tongue, he refrained and turned so his back was facing Malfoy’s bed. Beyond the occasional comment or polite remark, the two had not made any previous effort to converse at all. It would be incredibly weird to attempt such a thing now, of all times. Letting go of the idea, Harry allowed his mind to wander on its own.

...

Fire surrounded him, engulfed him, swallowed him. Flames were covering every inch of his vision. Harry jerked his broom up, but no, the tail was on fire, and he was going down, down, down… The fire was everywhere, and Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. They would both die in this room, together but so far away. Harry screamed as his falling body collided with a burning pile of junk. He fell to the floor of the Room of Requirement, panic pumping through his very veins. He couldn’t be back here. Voldemort was gone, and he had already saved Malfoy. Struggling to his feet, he searched for an exit route desperately. All he could see were mountains of long-forgotten items, going up in flames. The heat was unbearable, clawing at his skin, wrapping around his whole self like a snake trying to choke the life out of him. His green eyes landed on a distant form, and no, it couldn’t be-  
Malfoy. Gasping from lack of oxygen, Harry stumbled forward, carving a haphazard path to the other boy. Malfoy would know what to do, he had to know. But with every step that Harry took, Malfoy seemed to stretch further and further away. Harry was coughing uncontrollably now, choking on his very breath, the smoke clouding his mind. At some point, he’d fallen to the ground, unable to muster up the strength to keep moving forward. Was this what it was like for Crabbe? The panic, the dread as you resign yourself to your inevitable death. Harry’s eyes watered from the excess smoke, and he tried to scream, he tried so hard, but no sound would escape his lips. It was ---

...

Harry started awake, barely aware of the hands shaking shoulders, of the gasps wracking his entire body, of the way his limbs were thrashing. The boy clutched at his throat wildly, certain that he was still choking from the fire. But no, he could breathe fine. Tears streamed down both cheeks, and he sat up weakly, slowly registering his surroundings. It was still dark out, and it was difficult to see much of anything in the dim room. And Malfoy. Malfoy was on Harry’s bed, holding his shoulders with a look of extreme concern that Harry could just barely make out in the darkness. The young man glanced around nervously, hyper-aware of the way his body was shaking violently. It had been a nightmare. Only a nightmare.  
“Bloody hell Potter, are you alright?” Malfoy asked, sounding surprisingly sincere.  
“I- I think-” Harry was trying to get words out, but he kept getting cut off by terrible sobs that shook his whole frame.  
Malfoy’s grey eyes stared intently at Harry, and his brows drew together briefly as if he was deciding what to do. But Harry paid no attention, too distraught to fully comprehend his environment. It was too much, all too much, and it felt like his mind had let loose an entire ocean’s worth of pent up emotion and fear and worry. He was sobbing in earnest now, completely unable to control the torrential downpour of raw emotion thundering through him. At some point, Harry became vaguely aware that Malfoy had embraced him, taken his sworn enemy into his arms to comfort him. And the boy-who-lived didn’t even pause to question the absurdity of the situation. Images flashed rapid-fire through his consciousness, images of what Crabbe must have looked like in his final moments, a deeper memory of Snape admitting that Potter had his mother’s eyes…  
An eternity must have passed before Harry’s mind stilled. He realized that he was pressed against Malfoy’s side and that the older boy had wrapped both his arms around Harry protectively. The two boys were resting in a half-laying, half-sitting position at the top end of Harry’s bed. Harry noticed that his head was tucked under Malfoy’s chin. One of Malfoy’s thumbs began rubbing small circles into Harry’s shoulder, sending a wave of shivers through Harry’s body. Mistaking this as a sign of cold, Malfoy drew the sheets up over them on reflex. Harry sunk deeper into the embrace, allowing his body to relax. The two streams of tears falling from his eyes were the only remaining sign of his breakdown.  
“I get them too, you know. The nightmares.” There was a vulnerability in Malfoy’s voice, mixed with some other emotion that Harry could not identify.  
Harry said nothing, unsure how to respond and still grappling with a range of his own thoughts and feelings. Was Malfoy trying to taunt him, was this some sort of elaborate joke? Or could it be possible that the other boy had a caring side to him? Malfoy’s thumb was still skimming over his shoulder blade, igniting an unidentifiable feeling in Harry’s subconscious. The boy moved to wipe the tears from his face, but just before he could, Malfoy grabbed his wrist. Confused, Harry numbly allowed his roommate to tilt his face upwards. Eyebrows bunched together, the Slytherin gently raised his hand, hovering over Harry’s cheek.  
“May I?”  
Cheeks flushed, Harry mumbled a quiet, “Yes.”  
Pale fingertips slipped across his face, tenderly drying his features. A gentle sigh escaped Harry’s lips, and he found himself letting his eyes close. After what felt like a moment of deliberation, Malfoy’s hand slipped to the back of Harry’s head, fingers tangled in his hair.  
“I haven't been able to sleep much. Most nights I just lie here, wide awake, waiting for morning to come.”  
Harry didn’t know why he said it, it had just come out.  
“Me too.”  
At this, Harry’s eyes flew open, meeting Draco’s gaze. And- Oh. Their faces were much closer than he had thought. It was so startlingly odd to be this close to Malfoy, with their limbs entangled. Slightly caught off guard, Harry found himself staring at the other boy for much longer than he meant to.  
“What keeps you awake?” Mumbled Harry.  
“Guilt. And regret.” Malfoy’s fingers twisted further into Harry’s hair, and the pale boy looked down with an expression that could only be described as pain written all over his face. “I worry that the things I’ve done, the things I’ve condoned or said or allowed… That they’re unforgivable.”  
Harry pressed closer into Malfoy, burying his head in the other boy’s chest. He should have felt uncomfortable with the entire situation, but for some reason, it just felt so right to have Malfoy’s arms wrapped tight around him.  
“If it’s any consolation, I forgive you. And I think you should forgive yourself, too.”  
Malfoy simply nodded his head, and Harry got a distinct feeling that his roommate had begun to cry softly. They were both a little broken on the inside. He could see that much now. After allowing a long moment of silence to stretch between them, Harry added a final comment.  
“You’re a good person, Draco.”  
The older boy pulled Harry closer, whispering, “As are you, Harry.”  
They spent the rest of the night holding each other, murmuring to one another in the darkness. At some point, both of the boys drifted into a peaceful slumber, free of nightmares.


End file.
